Confessions of a Western Lord
by Dracoqueen22
Summary: MirokuxSesshoumaru. A series of oneshots from Sesshoumaru's POV detailing the possessive and twisted affair with Miroku from its lustful beginning to the bloody and startling conclusion. Warning: Yaoi, Language, Lime, Character Death
1. Chapter 1

I'm going by Movie 3 and not just the anime, though I have seen many of those episodes as well. So if some of their past is a little off, it's because the movie and the anime don't exactly coincide…. I don't think they do anyways… I don't know fanfics are confusing me. Sometimes reality and fanfics clash.

Expect OOC as this is a yaoi fanfic.

Disclaimer: I neither own Inuyasha nor make any money from this fanfic.

**Confessions of a Western Lord**

**Episode 1: Tamed**

"Do you have something to protect, Sesshoumaru?"

My father asked me that once, right before he left to save Inuyasha's mother. I had asked him to leave the swords, so that I could be powerful. I still hoped to one day beat him and be stronger than him. Yet, he died, saving that human and her child… his child. Not even born and Inuyasha already had more of my father's love than I did.

At the time I scoffed. I, Sesshoumaru, protect no one. I need no one, save myself and my own power.

Then later – in the battle against that sword, Sou'nga, who had possessed that human – I remembered hearing father's words, echoing around me.

I still denied protecting anything… knowing the whole time that there were two that I always fought for… that, though I would not say it aloud, I was willing to die for. Rin, my ward, and even the annoying twit, Jaken. They were my responsibility, and I protected them. Though say it aloud and to my face and I would be tempted to rip off your own with my poisonous claws.

However, lying here, feeling the warmth of another body pressed up against mine, breathing gently as he sleeps, I find myself wondering if there is yet another I should protect. Not that the monk needs it. Indeed, with his ofuda and kazaana, he is very powerful, his spirit energy one of the highest I have seen in a ningen.

Lying on the ground, beneath the soft canopy of trees, with him cuddled up to my side, I can see the moon peeking through the trees. It is but a shining white orb that casts a gentle light on two lovers on the forest floor.

I can feel his smooth skin against mine, so soft. I have to be careful. Ningens are such fragile creatures… just a little pressure and I can easily break his skin with my claws, so I am cautious.

Because, I, Sesshoumaru, have fallen for a human… and not just any human at that, a raven-haired, violet-eyed monk by the name of Miroku. Just like my brother, who I can no longer bring myself to hate, and my father, who I now understand… I have learned to care for a ningen.

I cannot say when the obsession first began or when I first felt trapped within his gaze. When my heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice… that was a moment which severely frightened me. I was reacting to a ningen… my BODY was reacting to said creature in ways that I had pushed down a long time ago.

I wanted to tear out that damn tie and run my fingers through his hear; I was insanely curious as to how it would feel. I wondered would it be as soft as mine, as well-groomed and silken. Would it be coarse and rough?

That night we first lay together, and I submitted myself to him. Why I did, I still do not understand… but from the first time… he has owned me.

I shiver briefly, but not from the cold. No, from the heat building up within me as I recall that night. There was so much passion and desire between us. Our coupling was fierce and almost animalistic… as if he were the demon and I the human.

I remember him running his tongue over my markings… and me shivering beneath his touch. He does not know that those are sensitive parts of my body but perhaps that is the desire behind it all. His hands… they ought to be outlawed. When he touches me, my whole body feels as if it is on fire. I arch and moan and sigh, sounding completely unlike myself… but I cannot help my reaction. There is something about the way his soft human flesh feels ghosting over mine accompanied by the somewhat rough, but smooth feel of his prayer beads over the kazaana. I cannot even begin to explain it…

He murmurs of how I taste, though I never really understood how anyone could taste the way he describes. He has a tongue that consistently spills pretty words and undeniable sensations. When he places his mouth on me, stroking, sucking, nibbling gently, I literally melt underneath him.

I never thought that I would ever take a human as a lover… but feeling that warm mouth descending onme andthe accompanying hot, tingling sensations that spread throughout my anatomy… I wonder why I had not done it before. Humans have so much passion… so much vigor… I suppose it is necessary for their rather short lives.

I am tempted to sigh with content at the feelings within me. I can hear Ah-Un snoring peacefully, Rin probably cuddled up to his warm belly. Even Jaken's bubbly gurgle as he sleeps on is clear to my hearing. I can feel no other youkai nearby so I know that my charges are safe. The night is crisp and clear and the mossy ground beneath me soft and comfortable. There is warmth at my side, the only warmth that can come from having been sexually satisfied.

Yet, at the end of the night, the raven-haired monk in my arms does not belong to me but to a certain ningen demon slayer. It is this thought that sobers me. So why did I even bother… why did I come to him and call him to me? Why do I continue to seek after him… knowing how it will end each time?

Because my heart has been trapped in violet eyes… so maybe that is why I let him take me… why I allow myself to belong to a ningen male. I have fallen into the same trap of my father and my younger half-brother. The love of a ningen… it brings down the strongest of demons. My entire family is proof of that, which is all null and void… because I do not even have his love or devotion or promise… just a touch that sets me afire with desire. Feelings that I have not felt in a long time, sensations that melt my cold exterior, I almost want to change. It is frightening but exhilaratingly freeing as well.

He does not need my protection… he does not even need me. Before the horizon greets the morning and the sun begins its first stirrings, he will be gone… as if he had never been there at all. Back to my idiotic half-brother, that miko, the annoying kit, and the demon slayer that he has fooled himself into loving. Indeed, he must be a fool to choose a ningen women over me, Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands.

However, I am the greater fool for allowing myself to become addicted to a violet-eyed monk. After all, I cannot offer him that… a child. Perhaps that is why I let him go every morning. I cannot give him what he needs… what he desires most. I know of his curse. I know of the Kazaana and his desire to continue his lineage despite the fact that he will just be passing on the curse.

His friends know nothing… well, not the ningens anyway. I have heard the little kit comment once or twice that he smelled 'funny'. I know my brother knows; he is not that much of an idiot. He never says anything however… just glares and wrinkles his nose.

Inuyasha knows the scent of his older brother… knows it well. I wonder why he keeps the monk's secret. Is this what is known as friendship? Stupid ningen emotions. The women are none the wiser, of course, especially since he keeps up his lecherous tendencies.

I know because I have followed him when my obsession was just beginning and after he had me for the first time… moments when I just wanted to see him. I have watched him from a distance; I have snuck glances at him bathing alone; he has become an obsession for this Inuyoukai, but I cannot stop it.

I tried to kill him once. He was lying there in my arms again. Sleeping peacefully, completely trusting. I even called up my poison, ready to get rid of the nuisance that had invaded my mind and tore down my icy walls… making me FEEL again. However, I could not do it… I felt weakness… that was the only night that I left first, and it has never happened again. He did not even question me when I appeared again a few days later.

I wonder if he is proud of himself for bringing me, Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, to my current situation. Rin and he have tamed the beast… she made me smile, made me care first, and he… he made me feel. There is joy in living even in such extended lives as us demons.

It had become so monotonous. Yet, he awoke me from my slumber.

And still he does not belong to me; he is not mine, and at the end of it all… I will be left with nothing. Pathetic really… but I cannot stop. Without his touch I am bereft… without his smooth, dulcet tones telling me I am beautiful I believe just the opposite.

Why do I not just take him? Why do I not just demand that he stay with me, forbid him to return to those ningens and my brother, order that he remain with me? Why? I am Lord, should I not take what I desire? No, I have already decided this. I do not want a slave or a sullen bedmate. I want him to come willingly; I want him to come to me.

The sun is starting to come up now… just barely peeking over the horizon. Small streams of light are filtering through the tree branches and leaves. I have stayed awake nearly this entire night thinking of him, not that I truly need sleep. I am, after all, a demon.

I can feel him stirring slowly. He always wakes with the dawn. It gives him just enough time to dress, splash his face with some water, and creep back to his friends. When will this end, I wonder? When will he finally call end it, or when I will decide that I will not stand for it anymore?

I pretend I am asleep, not sure what I would say if I showed him I was awake. What to say, after all? Surely not nonsense… begging words. I will not beg him to stay, and I will not follow human custom. Words such as those do not belong in my vocabulary. Yet, there is still a part of me that tells me to force away my pride and tell him what I am truly thinking. I snort internally because to do so aloud would alert him to my wakefulness.

I can sense him rising and stretching slowly. I can almost see him blink as he takes in his surroundings and checks to be sure his wards and beads are still in place. It is a nervous habit of his; consistently making sure that the wind tunnel is sufficiently covered.

The warmth leaves my side, and I know he has completely risen. I will bet that in the early morning light and slightly cool, damp air, he looks positively edible. I crack open an eye. He has his back to me as he searches around for his clothing. This is fine by me because I can see his better half. Miroku is quite thin beneath all his robes, but he still has muscles evident by the way they ripple as he moves. I stifle a sigh of desire, and once more pretend I am asleep. I can already feel myself preparing for another round that I know is not going to come.

I can hear the rustling of fabric as he pulls on his robes and then the tinkling of the rings on his staff. It is quite a deadly weapon; I discovered that the hard way. However, I will not go into that today. It is far more than a walking stick.

I can hear his footsteps crunching over the fallen leaves and for a moment I thought he had left. Then I felt his presence settled on my right side. He kneels down, and I feel a soft kiss on my forehead.

He had never done that before. Who did he think I was? Some child to be kissed goodbye… and on the forehead, no less!

My eyes snap open, and I grab his arm, pulling him down so that I can kiss him properly and firmly on the lips. He falls forward with a small oomph of surprise and our lips meet. I invade his mouth with my own, rubbing a fang over his bottom lip and swiping my tongue inside his wet cavern. He moans softly and gives in slightly, relaxing his body against mine, staff falling to the ground forgotten as he wraps a hand in my arm and uses the other to steady himself. For a moment I mourn the loss of my limb, wishing that I could wrap a hand around his head and pull him closer.

After a moment, the need for oxygen separates us. He looks down at me, smirking as usual. "I knew you were faking."

"Feh," I say and slide out from under him, searching for my clothing. I do not want to hear what is coming next. 'I am going now' or some such nonsense.

"You are beginning to sound like your brother," he comments, shifting his weight back to sit on his legs as he tucks them underneath his body. Odd… it makes me wonder if he thinks he is going to stay this time.

I send him an evil glare for daring to compare me to the half-breed, who I have secretly learned to tolerate and grudgingly allotted a small amount of admiration. The little fool had guts, I will grant him that much… and he was tenacious; I had not beaten the half-breed, yet. Then again, he does have father's blood in him so it is to be expected.

And as usual, my glare has no effect. I believe I am losing my touch. On any other day it would send any ningen and demon running for fear. Instead, it makes him smirk wider, even lecherously as he watches me dress.

I feel a hand grace my backside and I do not even have to resist the urge to strike him. There is none. I sigh because I actually relish the touch, remembering how it feels when other actions accompany it. Instead of striking him, I resort to idle threats that I know he will not take seriously.

As I latch my armor back about my chest, I growl. "I could take your hands for that."

I hear him stand and walk up behind him. He rises up on his feet and leans into my ear. He breathes a puff of warm air on my ear and whispers seductively. "Ah, but then how would Iscrew you?"

I shiver unintentionally as all sorts of thoughts run through my mind. How, indeed? I turn around and attempt to grab him for another kiss, but he has already danced out of my reach. Damn Inuyasha for taking my other arm!

"Come back here, human," I growl. He started something in me, and now he needs to finish it.

He laughs as he heads off into the forest, completely ignoring my demands. Back to his ningen friends and back to my half-brother.

"I will take care of that… problem, later," he calls back to me in a saucy tone as he disappears into the surrounding forest.

I entertain thoughts of chasing him down and making him do as I say. Imagine, him tempting me, Sesshoumaru, and getting away with it. He has poisoned me, captured me in some spell to leave me feeling this way, empty, bereft, and extremely wanting!

I gather up the rest of my things, Tensaiga and Tokijin included, all the time thinking of him and my fate as I head back towards where I left my wards and Ah-Un.

I sigh because I have allowed a human to own me in such a way. Yet, it is only when I am sitting back with Rin and Jaken, listening to the little female chatter away continuously as she braids wildflowers into my hair that I even realize what has happened to me.

Ice Lord… that is a name that has been given to me. Humans… I hate them… despise them… yet allow them to touch me in ways I would not even allow most demons. Cold… untouchable… deadly… all adjectives that have been used to describe me.

I idly wonder when Miroku will return, if he ever does, or if I will have to go fetch him. I wonder if I will spend the rest of my days chasing after a human, or if I will finally kill him as I had once intended. I wonder how I have come to this point in my life, and then I realize that I left one more adjective out of the list.

Tamed.

---

This might turn into a collection of one-shots, but I have several other fics going so updates are going to be sporadic at best.

This is my first Inuyasha fic so I am very interested in feedback, good or bad.


	2. Taken

Warning: Dark thoughts, limeish actions, some biting and stuff, male/male action, don't like, don't read!

**Episode 2: Taken**

It has been three months since the last time I have felt his hands on mine. Five months is not a long time for a youkai as myself, barely enough to be noticed. Yet, for me, it has been torture.

There is something about that monk, that violet-eyed human, who has me craving his touch. He has placed a spell on me, a compulsion of some kind; that must be the only explanation for this pulling inside of me. I have told myself to stay away, that what he needs is not me, that what he desires is something else. I had hoped that by putting distance, some old part of me might return, back to before I allowed the monk to touch me and rule my heart.

However, I cannot seem to even obey myself any longer. I follow only these primal urges in me, these desires to be with the one that has captured every part of me.

Curse Miroku for doing this to me! For taking this inuyoukai and turning him into something barely worthy of the title lord. I have fallen hard, fallen so that it seems I may never rise again. Here I am, seeking out his presence after a five month absence because I crave his simple touch. Nothing else will do anymore.

Nothing.

I am watching their little group this very moment, sitting down amidst a small clearing of trees and preparing to rest for the night. The ningen woman, the one Miroku called Kagome, my brother's love, is cooking something strange over the fire. It smells revolting, and I want nothing to do with the odd stringy mixture.

The kit is running around with the fire cat and playing silly games as children are known to do. I have caught Rin on many occasions off in her own little world with made up creatures. Amusing, really.

And the demon slayer, the one that has stolen the heart of my monk, she is polishing that Hiraikotsu and sharpening its edges.

I know that both Inuyasha and Miroku know I am here. Their youkai awareness is far too toned to not know. I saw my half-brother's nose twitch, those familiar eyes darting in my direction before he settled down into his usual position high up in the branches of the tree. The monk is sitting by the fire, calmly chatting with both females, but he knows I am here. He knows I am watching.

I wonder what he thinks of my long absence, of the five-month time I have spent away.

Will he even come to me now? Will I have to fight for his attentions once more? And then I wonder, what have I come to?

A lord within his own right, worried for the interest of a human male, and a monk at that… although his morality leaves much to be questioned. I have observed his idea of exorcism. He would have made quite the devious demon.

And even as I stand here watching from my vantage point, my body is calling out to his. I can feel my blood rush; my finger's twitch, and spikes of arousal are spreading through me. I want to feel him again. My lips curl back in disgust, although I cannot deny the truth of my body. I have tried to ignore it, push it aside, as if it were all nothing, meaningless… to preserve my pride.

Still, it has been a long time since I dreamed. It has been centuries since I was a child in my own right, and yet, my sleep has been haunted lately. Haunted by thoughts of violet eyes and calloused hands, my body waking to a state of such advanced arousal that I can barely concentrate on anything but the lust and desire coursing through me.

I have years of training in disregarding my feelings but this was something I could not ignore. The way I have fallen for the monk is not something I could push aside or even fight away, and I know only two options are left to me. Either Miroku has to die… or he will have to come to me. After five months of naught but sleepless nights and scattered thoughts, I have come to this conclusion.

I can hear Rin and Jaken arguing behind me. He is teasing her again, of course, and she is steadfastly ignoring his words. I wonder why I have allowed this. First, the following of the human girl; she has become my ward even, and now, the desire of a human male.

Is my family cursed to harbor the humans?

"Sesshoumaru-sama." Jaken is attempting to speak to me.

I give him but only a cursory glance. Times before I would not have even deigned to notice he was speaking, but as I said, something within me is changing. I do not like it. I have to know why, and the only answers lie within the monk.

I will wait here, in this spot. He will come after nightfall; it is always this way. I don't know what excuses he makes to them so that he can slip away or how he explains his lengthy absences, and frankly, I do not care.

"We will rest here for the night, Jaken. Find Rin something to eat," I order knowing that I will be obeyed.

With that taken care of, I wander a fair distance away, though within hearing and smelling range to await the arrival of Miroku… if indeed he chooses to come.

-----

It is late in the night when I hear the first faint sounds of someone approaching my position. I am instantly alert, not that I was sleeping to begin with. I can sense immediately that it is a ningen approaching and not an attacking youkai. It goes without saying that I know it is Miroku. I step out from behind a tree to come face to face with the man that had been haunting my sleep for five long months.

At the very sight of him, my body reacts as I knew it would. The familiar feeling of blood rushing through my veins as I begin to swell with the thought of things to come, and it is all just on sight.

"You have come," he says simply as he is standing not but a foot away. Within reaching distance, should I decide to close the space between us.

"Yes," I say simply, not feeling the necessity to say anything more.

A smile quirks at the corner of his mouth, a mischievous grin that I have come to recognize as a sign of his impending lechery. So… I am not the only one that has been haunted by this… tryst of ours.

"I had thought you had forgotten about me, no longer seeking my company."

I merely incline my head in acceptance of his words. "You have something I desire, after all." If desire were this hungry feeling inside of me, this burning through my skin to be touched and bitten and this aching rush to be filled, then yes, he had something I desired.

That is the only warning that I give him before my hand darts forward, grabbing onto the front of his clothing and jerking him towards me. The arrogant monk is not even surprised by my actions as I force our lips together in a bruising, half-violent kiss. I can taste blood in the action; I believe he has bitten his lip with my forceful pull. The flavor only serves to heighten my lust.

I hear the dull thud as he thrusts that sharpened staff into the ground before both of his hands are on me, pulling at my clothing. I have taken the liberty of already removing my armor and Moko-Moko so that they do not interfere. I am a lord; I do not fear for my life without my armor.

His kiss becomes more forceful, just as aggressive as my mine as he pushes his tongue into my mouth, sucking on mine and nibbling at my lips. His hands jerk on the tie to my clothing, pushing it off my shoulders to pool at the ground at our feet. My own arm has busied itself by removing the many layers of clothing that he wears: the strange tie over his robes, the dark purple robes itself, and then the final layer.

I can feel his hands roaming over my bare chest, sliding down my skin, pinching and pulling as they travel. His lips leave mine, only to attack my throat, forcing my head backwards as his teeth graze over my neck, and his tongue leaves a hot trail down my flesh. He growls against my throat. That is the only warning I get before he pushes me down to the ground, and we land on top our abandoned clothing.

In the five months that had passed, I have nearly forgotten how very demonic he could be in his attentions. He is aggressive; he is passionate, and it makes my blood boil, my skin tingle. I gasp against his movements and finally give up trying to take back any sort of control. I lay back and allow him free reign, and I know that such a thing will bring me what I have been seeking.

He moves his tongue back to my face, running the wet appendage over my markings, a move which makes me shudder. I give myself up to the pleasure that he is offering me, the desire coming up from him in heated waves. It is only after he has entered me, fierce, claiming thrusts without tenderness, which we both prefer, that I come upon a realization.

In all my years of existence, there is only one time that I have ever felt truly alive, during the midst of battle with war singing in my veins and the blood of my enemies at my feet. When I am taken by the call of war and a sword in my hand, I don't realize the extent of my being.

But now, with him here inside me, filling me with a pleasure that I've rarely experienced, I can feel that same stirring, that same realization that I am alive and not merely existing. Why is it that he can remind me of the way to live, a demon who will survive many years after he is gone?

Why does this feeling supersede nearly all of my other desires?

I wonder how it has come to this: allowing myself to be taken by a human and then far worse, to share him with another. I am a lord, an assassin, a terribly feared youkai, and yet, I allow this to continue. He should be mine… and mine alone!

The hot fire that has built in my belly begins to coil and twist with my impending orgasm. The whole of me begins to shudder, and I growl fiercely before latching onto the tender skin of his shoulder, just beneath his collarbone, and bite down. Orgasm rips through me, my body bucking up into his as he gasps with both the force of my bite and the feel of me rhythmically pulsating around him. I can feel blood seeping into my mouth and under the claws of my hand, but he doesn't seem to mind terribly.

With a final gasp, he shudders and collapses on top of me, our bodies heaving to draw a breath as we struggle to come down from our climaxes. I remove my fangs from his shoulder, licking my lips to remove any traces of the blood and eye the wound cautiously. It is shallow but will heal and will be easily covered by his heavy robes. It seems pain is not an issue for him either. Perhaps this is why I continue to go to him. He is the only one outside of other demons, of which I have no respect for, who can give me what I need without turning it into a blood bath.

With a small grunt, he pulls himself from my body with only the slightest bit of sting and rolls over, removing his weight from atop me. I can tell with just a small shift that I am in desperate need of a bath, although the hot springs near my home are too far a distance at this point. Thankfully, I can smell the waters of a fresh, albeit cold, spring nearby.

He gingerly touches the wound on his shoulder with a slight grimace. I do not bother to apologize as he winces slightly before shrugging it off, mouth curling up into a grin.

"Can't you just heal it with a lick?"

I frown and narrow my eyes. "No."

He laughs lightly, violet eyes shining. I wonder how long it took before he no longer feared me... if he even did to begin with. The laugh is followed by a yawn.

"Oh, well... I'll just keep it as proof then."

I do not respond, choosing instead to look away, lip curled into a frown as I begin thinking. I feel the wandering of his hand onto my buttocks, and I resist the urge to shake my head as he gropes me without shame.

"Ah," he comments. "If only this monk had the slightest bit more of energy…" This is accompanied by another yawn as his hand moves from its place. He is not in the least bothered by my lack of speech. Have we truly become this comfortable in one another's presence… well, as comfortable as one such I can be?

Not but a few seconds pass before I hear the evened breathing of him slipping into slumber. He always sleeps so quickly, as if in the act of orgasm, his strength leaves him as well. It is something that I will never understand.

I get up from the pile of clothing and limp into the surrounding forest, seeking out the river that I had scented earlier. I care nothing for my nudity, my youkai telling me that there are no foes present. A few minutes later, I find myself at the silvery trail of water. I gingerly step into the cool liquid before I begin rinsing of my body of the creamy, white fluid.

There is a rustle in the trees above me before I hear an undignified but very characteristic snort. A familiar scent wafts in my direction.

"Hypocrite."

So, he has finally chosen to speak to me. "I have no need to explain myself to you," I respond simply. I know that he will not attack me here as I am now, just as I know I will not attack him. There is an unspoken truce when I lie with the monk, and for now, it will suffice.

"Feh." Inuyasha snorts once more. I can feel his eyes on me, but I do not even grant him my own resentful glare. "Leave him alone. He's not yours to have."

And should I give him to the human female then? The very one that drove him to me in the first place? I should think not.

"We shall see," I respond simply before continuing to rinse my body with the cool, stream water.

There is another rustle of the leaves. "And you even allowed him to take you. Has the great Sesshoumaru become weak?" He is goading me on purpose.

Perhaps he is jealous? I cannot say. Does he want the monk for himself? Or is it because I would deign to lie with a human before I would accord Inuyasha some respect?

"Jealousy does not become the son of a great lord, even if he is but a half-breed," I respond simply before rising to my feet, not ashamed at all of my nakedness as I half turn towards where glittering amber eyes are glaring down at me from a perch in a tree as was his usual.

"Shut up!" snarls Inuyasha. "You don't know anything, stupid bastard. Stop playing around with humans and go back to your high pedestal."

I raise an elegant brow. "Is there a reason you have made yourself this human's proverbial knight?"

He flusters, the leaves shaking as he angrily turns about in his tree and drops down to the ground in front of me, standing up and tall and attempting to seem proud.

"I don't care for that damned, lecherous monk. My only concern is for Sango."

I turn from him without any sort of dismissal. I do not believe that he will strike me in the back because, fool that he is, my brother has a certain code of honor, though it is somewhat tainted by the same code of the humans. I am planning to head back to my clothing and the sleeping monk. Though rest is not absolutely necessary, I find something within me has missed lying next to Miroku.

However, I will not leave without some parting words.

"Then it is the woman demon slayer that you are a knight for. Interesting, my brother, not one but two female ningen. Father would be proud." The reproach was evident in my tone. "Take to your own issues before you enter into mine. It is his decision to come to me, and that is where I will leave it."

He snorts again but does not respond. I leave him behind, returning to the small clearing of trees where I have left my weapons, clothing, and an undressed sleeping monk. Inuyasha, fool that he is, has a valid point. So long as this Sango exists, I will never have Miroku to myself. I will have to continue skulking about in the shadows with secrecy like some common thief.

The only question now is… what am I to do about the situation? Will I continue to allow my life to be dictated by the monk's choices, or will I show the truth of my rule and take what is rightfully mine?

As I lie back down next to the monk and his sleeping form, I know that the time has come for decisions to be made. Things cannot continue as they are.

And our fate lies on my decision alone.

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A/N: Obsession can be a dangerous thing. With that said, please review! There are... three more parts to this before the end.


	3. Consumed

Warnings for dark thoughts and biting/pain fetishes, limeish scenes, some more hot Mir/Sess sex. Don't like, don't read.

**Episode 03: Consumed**

One week later… and I cannot bring myself to leave Miroku's side. Yes, I have taken to referring to him by his given name more often. At this point, referring to him as "the monk" feels wrong on a level I do not quite understand. So I have been quietly following his group and he. I stay a sufficient distance away, but I am still close enough so that he can come to me at night.

And I lose myself in the pleasure he offers, feeling a bit of the coldness that has taken over my heart trickling away in melted rivers as his warmth seeps in. These feelings that he invokes in me, these desires for things I have never cared for, and this pleasure that until now was not something I craved… I don't know what to do with them. They are steadily building until I feel as if I am about to burst.

I restlessly pace the ground as I ponder on my situation, the one I have inadvertently gotten into. I think of how I lost my heart, the one I didn't care to have, to a perverted monk with violet eyes and wandering hands.

I want him to be mine, solely mine so that I no longer have to sneak around. I am a Lord, and more than that, the most powerful demon in this land. Yet, the one thing that I desire, the one thing that I am beginning to crave with an intensity, this one thing… it eludes me. The monk… Miroku is mine, wholly and completely. And still, he disappears every morning to rejoin my brother and his band of fools. He scurries back to the demon slayer, and she rejects his every advance.

There is a part of me that hates him, the part that is reviled at what I have become. That side of my soul, my lineage, my youkai demands that I respect only other demons. It says I am poisoning myself, tainting my very being with his touch. It tells me that ningens are fodder… humans are nothing more than a scourge on the land with their short lives and weak bodies. Above all things I respect power. Yet, these creatures, these /humans/ have none of it.

And still I desire Miroku.

That is the other part of me, the part that I do not understand where it is inside or where it comes from. For Inuyasha, it is simple. His sympathy comes from his tainted blood, from his mother's genes, and history that flows through his veins. Some piece of him will always side with the humans. Even when he is in his fully demon form, there is a part of him that knows of his love for humans.

For myself, I cannot say where this compassion has stemmed from. I do not dare admit to myself that it comes from father. In my mind, he is still absolute, despite his weakness for humans. In my heart, that locked organ buried deep within, he is still the most powerful, the great Inu no Taisho (1). I still find myself angry at Inuyasha for taking him from me, though I know truly that there was nothing my half-brother had done. It is not his fault that my father was willing to die for his human wife and unborn son, but it is gives me something to blame my anger on. It gives me some reason to hate a creature that is slowly and tenaciously claiming my admiration.

However, I am rambling on topics that have no precedence. I find myself sitting in thought more and more lately as I consider what I am to about my situation. The problem which has much to do with why I am standing on a plateau, watching my brother and his ningen friends battle a small band of Hebi, snake demons.

The youkai themselves are not altogether strong, merely possessing a venomous bite and an almost sinuous way of movement, but they are fast and quite annoying. I do not interfere, finding that if these demons defeat my half-brother, he is nowhere near as strong as I have found him to be. The ningens are holding up quite well themselves.

The girl with the bow, wielding it with little skill, not quite like her predecessor, is clinging to my brother's side as she often does when they fight. The twit considers herself in love with Inuyasha, a foolish notion considering what happened to him fifty years prior. Still, fools will be fools, and there is nothing that can be said. If he doesn't choose to learn from past mistakes, I cannot do anything for him.

I know he returns her affections, though it is not quite so public. Why he chose to engage his heart with someone who requires his constant protection and sacrifice is beyond my understanding. Perhaps this is why I prefer Miroku over many humans. I know that he is skilled and can fend for himself. I already have two annoying companions to protect. I do not need another.

The demon slayer, Sango if I remember correctly, is skilled within her own right as well. She tends to ride on the back of the fire cat, swinging her Hiraikotsu with a strength not found in most human women. To say that I admired her even partially would be a betrayal to my intense dislike of her, but I do not lie. Perhaps that is why Miroku is endeared to her as well as myself. She is strong-willed and determined.

And then, the one who truly draws my attention, it is he who has caught this inuyoukai's eye. In the small enclosure surrounded by thickly grown trees and heavy underbrush, he is reluctant to use the powerful wind tunnel. Yet, he is still holding back the Hebi with swings of his sharpened staff and tosses of the ofuda.

The battle appears to be going well, my brother's group easily defeating the weak Hebi until one darts out of an overhanging tree and latches on to Miroku's back. I narrow my eyes in anger but make no move to save him. That is not my place. He would not fall to such a creature, not one as weak as that. I can see his face twist into irritation as he pulls out another ofuda, but before he has a chance to slap the paper onto the demon's face, it sinks its fangs into his shoulder. Miroku's expression changes from anger to pain as he grits his teeth and elbows the youkai with one arm as he presses the ofuda to its oily, scaly face with the other.

The creature howls in pain as it falls to the ground, writhing and twisting under the sealing spell of the holy paper. I watch, my own expression impassive as Miroku slumps to the ground, his uninjured arm clutching at his bleeding shoulder. Blood stains the beads covering his kazaana. The damned youkai has sunk its fangs in a spot that I know very well. It is the very same one where I had bitten Miroku earlier in the week. It had almost healed over completely, but the very fact that the demon had defiled what is mine makes me angry.

My body stiffens as I observed what came next. I know that the creature's venom is probably flowing through Miroku's veins at this very moment, but I am also aware that the flea, Myouga is clinging to my brother's haori. The monk is in no danger of dying. Even as I know this, I can feel Tenseiga pulsing at my side. Sometimes, I can tell that the sword is trying to tell me something, as if my father's voice was speaking from somewhere beyond. It is a strange weapon, at times acting of its own accord and other times encouraging me to respond to its will.

Yet, what caused my body to become like a board, my eyes to narrow even further, and my jaw to clench, was the sight of the demon slayer, immediately rushing to Miroku's side. He looks up at her, managing a slight smile as her face twists with worry. I can hear what they are saying well enough, my enhanced hearing working as well as my ability to read lips, but I do not care to repeat it. Human words of care and consideration, drivel in my opinion. He is reassuring her. She repeats words of worry.

It is an endless cycle.

That is until she begins to remove his robe, only enough to see the wound. His eyes widen in surprise. He tries to pull away, perhaps remembering that I had bitten him there, but she is persistent. As her hands pass over his body, wiping away the blood and aiding Myouga in removing the poison before wrapping the wound, I find a new feeling has entered into my heart.

No, new is the wrong word… or perhaps it is correct. Truly a paradox. I will not admit to myself that I was jealous of Inuyasha, so new will be the term I use. I find that jealousy is filling me to the brim… that she should touch him so openly, speak to him without shadows and lies.

That she should lay her hands on him at all is something that I do not wish to tolerate.

He has taken my heart, that monk, taken something that I did not want to give, and what do I have in return? Fickle attention due to the presence of that female, that human! As long as she exists, he will always return to her, leaving behind this inuyoukai.

I turn my back on the scene in disgust, no longer wishing to view the moment of human compassion or hear her sugary words… or his returned pleas and expressions of devotion. She knows it is drivel as much as I. Yet, to her, it means more. I am momentarily surprised to find that Jaken stands behind me, one hand on his staff, my staff, a strange look on his face.

I had been so caught up in my internal musings that I had neither heard him approaching nor sensed his youkai. Miroku has affected me on a level that both irritates me yet leaves me feeling oddly free.

I calmly regard my servant with a cool sneer, waiting for him to speak as I know he has some comment to make. His lizard-like eyes take in my appearance, but what he is searching for I cannot say. Sometimes, Jaken surprises me, seeming completely ignorant. Yet, other times, there is intelligence within his miniscule brain that I had never deigned to notice before.

"Sesshoumaru-sama," he begins, that same irritating tone to his voice. I make no change to my expression, remaining impassive as always. It is a silent gesture for him to continue, strangely curious as to what my servant would brave my wrath to say.

"My lord, it is far from me to say such things, but there is none but me with the courage," he said. At my irritated deep breath, he blanches yet keeps going strong. "I would serve you until my dying day. However, obsession, and that for a ningen especially, can be dangerous emotion." He hastily adds, "Not that you aren't strong. I do not want to see your lands fall due to a ningen that doesn't belong to you."

The entire time he speaks, I could feel my insides clench and my anger rising steadily. I know he is right of course, but to hear him say it is something that I will not bear. He waits with bated breath for my response. Yet, I give him nothing other than a disdainful strike across the top of his head as I swiftly move past him.

Rin and Ah-Un are nearby, and I know that she is probably hungry. I have neglected her needs much this past week for the sake of this hunger for Miroku. First, I will tend to the child, and then, I will take the time to ponder what I shall do about the monk and the demon slayer.

---

This time, I come to him in the dead of the night. Though he has distanced himself from his friends, sitting upon the side of a moonlight river and appearing to be in deep concentration, it is still I that appears first. I simply stand behind him, saying nothing. He sits with his legs crossed, arms pressed together in front of him with his head bowed and his eyes closed. However, I know that he is aware of my presence. His youkai senses are powerful indeed.

"Still here after a week," he comments, his voice soft yet with a hint of teasing. Violet eyes open as his hands move to his knees. "I'm surprised."

I do not respond, only giving him the same glare that Jaken was subjected to earlier. It is true that I never stick around for long periods of time. Though I seek him out frequently, it is never with a dogged persistence as I have this past week. Why am I so reluctant to walk away? Why can't I leave?

He chuckles at my lack of response, as if he had already expected it. He half turns, twisting about in his seat to look up at me. I can see the bits of the white bandage that cover his wound peeking out from under the dark fabric of his robes. Yet, he does not seem to be in much pain.

"Have I tamed the great inuyoukai, then?" he questions, his tone is most assuredly teasing this time. I narrow my eyes at him, invoking one of my most ruthless glares. It is designed to make blood run cold and bodies to freeze with terror.

"Your dalliance with the demon slayer will end," I inform him. This is the conclusion that I have come to. "You are mine."

I am Lord. I expect to be obeyed. If he is going to infect me with this feeling, this beating of my heart and coursing of blood through my veins as my groin begins to stiffen just being in his very presence, then I will have him as mine alone. I will not share.

He raises a brow as he slowly climbs to his feet, turning around completely to face me. Miroku is at ease in my presence, no alarm in the way he carries himself, no quick glance to the staff that leans against a nearby stream. He does not fear my power or my presence. I do not know if that fact is something that should fill me with pride or irritate me. Should it bother me so much… this acceptance by a human?

"I wasn't aware that this was defined," he answers, waving a hand vaguely to indicate the small space that stands between us.

I lower my gaze at him, staring directly into those oddly-colored eyes that have charmed me from the beginning. "It is now." My tone is final as I fully expect to be obeyed.

Instead of nodding and accepting my words for what they are, he smiles and laughs lightly, leaning towards me with a glint in his eyes. "Since when have you been the one in control?" he questions, his tone half-teasing and half-serious. This angers me, the irritation completely taking over.

I snarl angrily, my hand rising of its own accord to grasp him about the neck, putting pressure but not necessarily squeezing. "Make no mistake, monk. I could kill you before you draw your next breath. The control has always been in my hands." I am even more bothered by the fact that he does not look alarmed, merely gazing with eyes steady.

"I no longer fear you," he comments. "Your bark has no bite, so to speak."

I am beginning to wonder if there was ever a moment when he did fear me, or has he always thought that I would not hurt him? Has my complete discounting of the humans every time I fight with my brother for the Tetsusaiga endeared them to my presence? Do they truly believe that I would not bring them harm? I wonder, has my stance, my reputation fallen so low?

"Besides," he adds, while I digest this new information. "If you killed me, who would fuck you the way you want?" His voice drops in volume, turning into that sensual purr that always sends shivers up my spine and sets my heart to racing, just as it is doing now. I curse myself for the faint tremble in my arm as I still hold his fragile neck between my claws. It would be so simple, so easy to take his life.

"Even now, your body craves my touch. I can tell just by looking into your beautiful eyes. Tell me, Sesshoumaru, would you do me the honor of bearing my children?" The same slick tone, compliments heaped upon a sugared tongue as he speaks the words he asks every beautiful woman.

And he mocks me as well, calling my name without my proper title. Yet, something inside holds me back from closing my fingers, from cutting off his air supply and watching as he suffocates from my youkai strength. I don't understand this. I can't explain these feelings!

I close my eyes, feeling an irritated growl bubbling up within my throat. It is both at myself for these conflicting and raging emotions, emotions that should not exist to begin with, and with him… for inspiring my turmoil.

"You mock me and overstep your bounds," I intone, my face still an expressionless mask. "Implying that I need or desire the attentions of a human."

There is a rustling of fabric before I can feel one of his hands pressed against my chest, trailing down until it reaches my clothed groin and touching it with teasing motions. It is a fault of mine that I have become so obsessed that every time the sun falls I remove all of my armor, leaving it wherever I have made Jaken, Rin, and Ah-Un camp for the night. I have taken to keeping my swords on me, however, not so overly pathetic that I would leave without weapons.

It is with this touch that I have the uncomfortable feeling that I have lost control of myself. Somewhere along the line, little by little and piece by piece, I have given up my restraint and my desire to remain the one with power. Somehow, it has been given to Miroku. A sound develops in the back of my throat, a sound that to my horror is not unlike the purr of a feline. My clawed fingers slowly begin to unravel from around his throat as he smirks at me.

"I meant no disrespect," he claims, still in that soothing sensual voice that makes blood shoot straight to my groin, which swells into his touch, and he obligingly strokes. "I'm sure you could live without my touch, but the question is… do you want to?" The last is said with a purr as he leans forward, directly speaking into my ear as his tongue darts out and licks the shell before dragging the wet appendage around and tracing the lines of my markings.

I shudder before I even realize I am doing it as my hand falls slack from around his neck, tugging impatiently at the ties to his robes. My eyelids slide shut as he grabs the back of my head with his free hand, bringing us together for a deep and almost possessive kiss. I realize a bit belatedly that I have not responded to his earlier comment, but as his hand snakes between the folds of my clothing and grasps onto my hardening shaft, I no longer care so long as he keeps up those touches.

I push my aching arousal into his skilled touch as his robes pool around his feet thanks to my quick and efficient movements. I immediately notice the bandages on his shoulder, covering up the wound he received in the earlier battle. I am filled with anger at what the puny demon had dared to do… mark what was mine. I make plans to remedy that with a mark of my own, a reclamation of sorts.

And then, my thoughts flutter out of my head as quickly as they come. He makes short work of my own clothing, both of his hands tearing off the coverings as his mouth pushes insistently at mine. Teeth nibble at my lips. Tongues share the same space, and the smell of his own arousal washes over me, hot with a hint of a spice that I don't quite recognize.

My desires for the monk and the feelings he invokes in me begin to supersede any other thought as I give in to the stroking of his nimble fingers, and his mouth insistently presses against my own. My loins began to ache with the terrible pleasure of his hand upon mine, and my clothes fall from my body only to crumple around my feet.

His mouth leaves my lips, only to create a trail of wet kisses as he licks and nips to my sensitive neck, thick appendage tracing along the hollow of my throat. I can feel his teeth grazing along my skin, sending a fire racing through my veins and causing my skin to shiver. A low, growling purr develops in my throat as my hand tangles in the silken, midnight strands of his hair.

He latches onto my throat with his lips and teeth, pulling hard on the flesh with the suction of his mouth, a slight flare of pain coursing along the same line as the pleasure that shoots through me. His bare hand reaches around behind me, trailing down my spine with a light touch before his fingers trace the crease of my cheeks and dipping between the pale globes of flesh to press teasingly at me. I moan lightly at the touch, bucking backwards into it without thought.

I wonder only briefly how it has come to this. I am moaning like a wanton whore in the arms of a human, begging without words to be taken, as if I were submissive… as I if I were the one with less power. It is degrading; it is stripping me of all my pride. It is untoward behavior for a Lord. To make matters worse, to taint my youkai even further, I have allowed this act with someone who does not belong to me, who leads on this inuyoukai for the affections of a demon slayer female.

And yet, it is also one of the few times I find I am free. I cannot deny that there is a part of me that desires to be taken, a part that wants to for once give up control to someone else, losing a tiny piece of my restraint. There is a piece of me that knows and wants the fulfillment of being on the receiving end of such pleasure.

Until the monk's cursed hand grabs onto my shaft once more, slick and smooth beads sliding along my flesh and bringing me to greater heights of arousal. He trails his bare hand up my back, tangling the fingers in long, moonlight strands of hair before grabbing my hips with both hands and turning me around. He jerks my body against his own so quickly that I cannot even react.

I am taller than him, but the feeling of his dripping arousal pressing into my back, asking… no, demanding entrance into my body is almost more than I can take. I bite my lips to hold back another wanton moan as I narrow my eyes in a desperate attempt to regain some sort of control. As his tongue curls around my ear from behind and his hands trace patterns across my body, consistently roaming over bared and sweat-slicked flesh, I manage to keep my voice firm, not wavering in the slightest.

"What are you doing, monk?" I question, fully expecting an answer.

I cannot see him, but I know he is smirking. "Why, my lord," he begins, his tone mocking and teasing both, "have you no trust in me? Do you not think this monk can bring you pleasure?" Miroku questions. His hand snakes down between our bodies and squeezes my pale flesh as he chuckles. "Sorry… I couldn't help myself."

He begins to slowly guide our bodies to the ground without really answering my question. I give in to the movements as his mouth nibbles on the shell of my ear. I am lost in the feelings he invokes in me until we are kneeling on the ground. He carefully, and somewhat cautiously I might add, leans me forward until my weight is propped up on the one arm bent at the elbow. It is then that I am aware of his purpose.

I briefly remark on how fitting our posture is, but the thought flitters out of my mind as quickly as it entered the moment he presses his hot lips to my back and kisses my bared skin. His hands trace languid paths along my naked flesh, causing the hair to rise and my body to shiver of its own accord. He kneels between my slightly parted legs, causing my thoughts to wonder as to how I must look.

Kneeling upon the forest floor, my bare buttocks raised to the air like a wanton human as I shiver and bite my lip under the effects of his touch. If another demon were to see me as such, the lord of the western lands on his knees, they would remark on how far I had fallen… on how low I had degraded my very being. Yet, then, his wet tongue slides along the core of me, and I forget my pride as low moans escape me, unconsciously pushing back against that questing mouth.

He chuckles lightly as his hands knead at my flesh, the hard beads sliding along my skin and pressing deep against me. It is a feeling I rather enjoy.

"I find I like you in this position, my lord," he speaks quietly before sliding his tongue along my flesh once more.

I grit my teeth, unwilling to make yet another sound and prove myself to be the brazen whore that my body is tempting me to become. "You dare much to tease a demon," I comment in a hissed voice. "Perhaps you are allowed more liberty than is necessary."

He strokes his hand over the length of my back, much like someone would when petting a canine or feline. He follows that trail with warm, wet kisses and I shiver slightly, body beginning to tremble.

"It is a pleasure to serve you," he comments before I am lost in the pleasure he can give me. Our bodies rock together in a fierce, demanding claiming that has always been our way. I moan without care, taking everything I am given and returning it.

My hair trails along the side of my face, half lying on the ground in a fall of silver. I take in all these little details, along with the feeling of my lips being pulled between my teeth, fangs digging into the soft flesh. From this position, I cannot see him, dig my claws into his skin, or put my lips onto his flesh. I feel strangely detached from it all, even as the pleasure builds inside of me, stretching towards that aching crescendo.

His hands slide along my back, blunt nails scraping along my skin and scratching lightly. He draws no blood, however, and I hear him swiftly take a breath. I arch back into his touch, consumed by the pleasure that burns at me from the inside. It takes away my pride, my reason. It strips away my icy shell until I am left only desiring him: this one human monk with violet eyes and a cursed hand. This love has grown beyond my control, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

Miroku mutters something beneath his breath, something which I do not understand before he our position is changed, leaning over to share his lips as he continues the driving pace. I can only assume that our previous position was not as satisfactory as he had hoped. He pulls back from the kiss and ferociously attacks my neck with his lips and teeth, murmuring the same sweet nothings as always: words of praise and moans of endearment, flowery sentiments that inflate my ego.

My own mouth seeks his flesh, finding the unbandaged shoulder beneath my lips. My fangs graze along his skin before I bite down, restaking my claim that the unworthy Hebi had ruined (2). His blood washes over my lips, spilling into my mouth and filling my senses with coppery flavor that is undoubtedly human.

He moans, returning the favor with his less sharp, human teeth. The pain only further ignites my arousal. Perhaps it is because I am a youkai raised in battle, but I find that pain comes along with pleasure, sometimes stoking the fires. As I spiral down into the depths of the greatest pinnacle of ecstasy, I wrap my arm around his neck, grabbing his head with my hand and almost pushing his face into my neck as my entire form bucks beneath him. He quickly follows me over.

One last gasp… and Miroku falls forward on top of me, his heaving chest pressed to mind. Even as he pants, a bold chuckle manages to escape him. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were developing a taste for my blood," he comments, the warmth of his breath puffing lightly against the shallow bite he made in my neck.

I growl but say nothing, refusing to acknowledge the fact that I am enjoying his weight upon me. Yet, even with it comes the realization that soon he will be leaving my side as always, returning to the waiting demon slayer. My eyes narrow of their own accord, reminding me that he had diverted my attention earlier.

"You avoided my demand, monk," I respond, shifting out from under his weight as he slides off to the side, a smirk present on his face. "You will end the farce with the demon slayer."

He raises a brow at me. "Jealousy does not become a youkai of your station."

I gaze back at him placidly. I can feel an anger rising within me as he continues to deny this one request. This Sango continues to rise in my thoughts, invoking my fury and my jealousy for something that belongs to me. No /human/ should come between us. Who is he to turn me away for a ningen?

"She is a human," I reply simply. I feel that requires no further explanation.

He stretches mildly before rolling over and reaching for the pile of clothing a short distance away. He chuckles again, seemingly full of a cheerful spirit tonight for having escaped a brush with a poisonous death earlier.

"So am I, or have you been ignoring that fact?" He eyes me curiously as he begins to dress, oddly enough planning not to stay for the night. "That must be it. The great inuyoukai pretends that he is not aware his lover is a human so that he can keep his pride."

Did I detect something akin to hurt in his voice?

"I do not share."

He rises to his feet, looking down at me as I do not move from my position, half reclining on the ground with a blank expression on my face. "Everyday, I look into the face of my death, a gaping hole, which could swallow me at any moment." His violet eyes gaze into mine as he ties his robes around his body. "I am not a possession."

It is his unspoken words that affect me more, belying the truth in why he will not refuse the demon slayer: children. Inheritance in case he should fail, that is his desire. It is the same circle of arguments that I have encountered within my own mind time and time again, but I have already come up with a solution for that.

I do not care that he has a woman to bear his children. There are more than enough concubines to serve that purpose. No, it is the demon slayer herself that is causing the trouble. I know in his heart, he oscillates between she and I. He manages an air of nonchalance, a mask that rivals my own, but I know that within he desires that which I offer and her as well. So long as she exists, he will never be fully mine. He will never make the decision to belong only to me.

When I say nothing, he bends down slightly, gripping my chin with his cursed hand and passionately kissing my lips, He pulls the soft flesh into his mouth, nibbling gently. The scent of him overwhelms my senses, and I give in to the mollifying touch. I am not sure whether he means to soothe me or assure himself. Either way, I know that I can no longer teeter on the edge of confusion. My decision must be made.

"Til we meet again," he murmurs as he pulls away. With that said, he turns and walks into the forest, grabbing his staff as he passes. I can hear the jingle of the metal, my face drawing into a thoughtful expression.

His very being has consumed me, even such a simple touch. Given any other situation, I would have taken his head for taking such liberties with my person, but Miroku has invaded me. He has stolen my heart, my senses, done away with my pride, and changed the very core of what I am. I refuse to be without that passion. I refuse to give up the feelings he invokes in me. With what pride that remains, what grace, I will make him mine.

There's no longer a choice left to me. I cannot kill Miroku; that is beyond my reach. But to make him mine, the demon slayer cannot be a part of his life.

Sango must die.

----

A/N: I'm probably borderline with that sex scene there, so if it offends you and you feel like reporting me, let me say two things. 1) This is rated M for mature and I warned you. 2) Tell me and I will fix it because I don't feel like getting deleted. Thanks!

(1) The name of Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru's father is never given in the anime. Inutaisho is merely his rank, roughly meaning Dog General or something to that effect.

(2) I know that there are a lot of fanfictions out there that write biting as some sort of mating ritual or something to that effect. That is not the case here. Both men simply have a fetish for biting and the taste of blood.

With that said, and me rambling far more than necessary, please review! Thanks!


	4. Tainted

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! I'm really glad for the support. This is two first times for me, a dark fic and an Inuyasha fandom fic so i'm glad that people are enjoying this! Thanks again!

Warning: This is a strange episode. The beginning tone is reminiscent, but then, it goes into all out R-rating with violence and blood shed. Be prepared for a twisting of your heart.

Confessions of a Western Lord

**Episode 4: Tainted**

Once I made my decision, I wasted no time in carrying it out. After Miroku left my side this morning, I made plans. I sent Rin and Jaken back a top Ah-Un to my home. She cried, as I knew she would, and protested loudly. But with one look, the child and Jaken left to somewhere safe. A part of me knew that what I was about to do was something that no child should be forced to see.

Rin hates being separated from me for long lengths of time. She worries for my health, an endearing but unnecessary act, and I think on some level, she fears that I will leave her. Being an orphan, I'm sure, has much to do with these fears. To be honest, I cannot really say why I have not left her behind at some ningen village with her own kind. Only that I am sure if I tried, she would seek me out, only to end up as fodder for some hungry youkai's belly.

I cannot know why in the beginning of all this I allowed a human child to accompany me. Or why she even chose to follow after me, despite the fact that I was the one who saved her. It had been much the same when Jaken impressed himself into my service.

When I lay injured and she first came to me, afraid and yet with a determined bravery, I was intrigued by her. I was still reeling from my unfortunate failure at retrieving the Tetsusaiga, not that I had been trying particularly hard. I admit, I was a bit curious. I wondered was this the tenacity of humans that made my brother able to pull strength from nowhere to combat me time and time again?

No matter how many times I told the child that her kindness was wasted and that I did not eat ningen food, she still persisted. This only added to my ponderings, especially those concerning Tenseiga. I had once thought it an essentially useless blade. In terms of battle, it is. What use have I, an accomplished assassin, for a blade that does not kill? Yet, now, I realize that the Tenseiga can be powerful indeed.

This is what reviving Rin has shown me.

I stood there, looking down upon her bloody and mangled body, the scent of her death and wolf permeating the area causing my sensitive nose to twitch. Those once innocent eyes stared blankly up at the sky, one hand outstretched as if reaching for someone to save her. It was then that the Tenseiga pulsed at my side, almost as if it were prompting me to draw it. Intrigued, I pulled out the blade, gaze flickering along the silver sword as I contemplated it and its desires.

Then, I saw them. The skeletal-like creatures of death, sallow skin stretched tight over their thin frames and dead eyes almost glowing despite their lack of souls. The creatures grinned and displayed sharpened and decayed teeth as they wrapped the child's spirit in chains, preparing to drag her down to the underworld. I was fascinated by this, until again the sword pulsed in my grip, a warm throbbing feeling that spread from my claws up the entire length of my arm.

Out of pure curiosity, I used the Tenseiga. The sword made two quick and artful slashes through the air, like a silver scythe, instantly banishing the soul chainers. They screeched and hissed angrily, shooting me looks of anger before disappearing. Tenseiga was sheathed in one smooth motion as I knelt fluidly and pulled the still body of the child into my arm. I waited with bated breath, wondering if the power of life and death was truly mine.

Jaken and I watched, the toad gaping in surprise, as brown eyes opened, blinking in both recognition and confusion. She simply stared up at me, her expression the same as before. There was no fear.

I had succeeded, and that thought instantly filled me with pride and satisfaction. The child now lived, all of her wounds miraculously healed. I felt a strange sort of pleasure but not because I had mourned for the loss of the human, but because I had the power. I had the strength.

It was my sword that defeated death.

As I turned to leave Rin behind, she followed after me. Somehow along the way she wormed her way inside of me, past the wall of thick ice and stone, until I became attached to her presence.

Rin is terribly perceptive, even for her young age. She knows when to keep silent and when she is free to chatter without irritating me. She is remarkably devoted to those she cares for, and her bravery, for such a child and human, surprises even me at times. I recall how she had risked her own life to save that of Jaken's. I am not sure that I would do such a thing, even though he is my servant.

Somewhere in our travels, I have accepted her presence, and she has become the daughter I never knew I wanted or needed.

I cannot say why or how. Perhaps it had much to do with what she saw with those eyes, whenever she smiled one of those easy innocent child-like smiles. Rin did not see a fierce youkai who could kill her at any moment. Nor did she see the most feared assassin in the Western lands. She did not even see the first born /abandoned/ son of the great Inutaisho. She simply saw Sesshoumaru, as I am.

And now, with the Tenseiga as the bane of death, and Tokijin, the bane of life, I am even more powerful, even more dangerous than before. I, Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands have become a most godlike daiyoukai. Yet, I have been brought to this…. hunger for a human, a desire that I cannot sate no matter how many times I seek him. And now, I seek to kill for my own purposes… all over a ningen monk. I must make claim on what is mine. The interfering demon slayer has ceased in her purpose. I will not abide by this jealousy for a human.

After I sent away Rin and Jaken, I bathed in a nearby cool spring, washing away all lingering scents of rutting from the night before. It was a constant and distracting reminder. Another reason for me to despise what I have become: this sniveling shadow of a once proud daiyoukai. I always wanted to be like my father; now, it seems that I have found his footsteps. The things that I will do, that I am planning, all for love of a human.

Pitiful.

I dressed quickly, efficiently strapping on my armor and swords, before delicately and surreptitiously sniffing the scent on the winds. I have seen my brother on his hands and knees before, nose pressed to the ground as he searched for a scent. It was an undignified act that I would never take part in under any condition. I suppose he could not be blamed for his lack of shame considering his upbringing.

I caught the easily distinguishable scent of my brother's pack… that of ningen, kitsune, and fire cat all tumbled together in a conflagration of scents. They were coming from the north, towards the lands of the northern wolf youkai. I sniffed again, realizing the strange scent of my brother's woman and fire kit were faint, as if the two were not present. I distinctly recalled this having happened before, usually leaving Inuyasha in a temperamental mood. That leaves me with two fewer opponents to concern myself with. I am certain that the demon slayers' friends would not allow her to die without a fight.

I transformed myself into the ball of light that would allow me to travel at great speeds and headed in the direction of the familiar scent. By the end of the day, the demon slayer's annoying presence would be gone from my life, and I would find some semblance of normality.

----

I waste no time in attacking once I come upon their motley pack. They have made camp alongside a river with a rocky stream bed. My brother has already noticed my arrival and stands prepared for battle, Sango and Miroku flanking him on either side. The kit clings to Inuyasha's shoulder, still frightened every time he sees me. A wise choice.

Inuyasha growls and charges me the minute my feet touch the ground, no idle chatter for him it seems. However, I am in no mood for games. It is not the Tetsusaiga or determining my half-breed brother's skills that I have come for. I briefly glimpse my monk's face as I raise the Tokijin and easily sidestep Inuyasha's initial attack. Miroku is not shocked or surprised, but he does seem contemplative… as if he is guessing why I have come, but it is not certain. One hand remains near to his staff, ready to step in if needed.

"Too slow," I utter simply, knowing that my taunt will further enrage Inuyasha, causing him to make even more mistakes as I easily dodge another of his unskilled and boorish attacks. He treats the weapon as if it was a large club or something equally unrefined.

Has he no finesse? No pride in his swordsmanship?

I move quickly, nearly faster than the blink of an eye as I appear behind him. He stares dumbfounded for a moment as I swing the Tokijin, the flat of the blade striking him soundly across the back. If I were out for his blood today, my half-brother would already be dead.

Feh, if I were truly out to kill him, the pitiful hanyou would have died years ago.

He stumbles forward from the force of my attack, gasping for breath as I am certain I forced the air from his lungs. Yet, it is not enough to incapacitate him. However, before I can attack again, the whistling of air alerts me to the demon slayer's choice to join the battle. I twist my body and flip artfully backwards as the hiraikotsu flies by me, far too easy to outmaneuver. It flies in an arc, only to return to Sango's hand, her face set with determination. They are convinced I am here to kill Inuyasha and take his sword once more.

How very wrong they are.

I shift my weight just in time to find Inuyasha attacking again, having caught his breath and restored his balance. I tighten my grip on the Tokijin and swing it, releasing the kenatsu (1) and sending a burst of my youkai out at him, forcing my brother to either leap out of the way or get caught up in the attack.

"This does not concern you," I hiss at him coldly, informing him that he initiated this duel for no purpose even as he darts forward to continue, nearly dragging the blade of Tetsusaiga on the ground. I inwardly cringe at his lack of skill; he makes a mockery of father's name with his unsatisfactory abilities. For all intents and purposes, though hanyou, Inuyasha is still inuyoukai. He must be made to take pride in that rather than hate his demon blood.

My brother growls as he begins to duel, the others standing by as he shoots them a glare. The kitsune has made his way to Miroku's shoulder, the monk seeming confused… and worried at the same time.

"Why did you fucking attack us?" he demands with every swing of the Tetsusaiga. It is an easy enough task to nimbly dodge out of the way. "If you didn't come for father's sword then why?"

I pull back enough to allow him to use the kaze no kizu, a plan having already formed in my mind. I want to draw him into a trap, rendering him out of my way until my task is complete. I am tired of playing this fool's game. Inuyasha is interrupting me, and that I will not tolerate.

I shall have to kill him eventually.

"I have come to claim what is mine," I utter coldly, knowing the words will incite him to react with ire and a complete loss of control. "Never fear, dear brother, the Tetsusaiga will return to its true owner soon enough." It is decidedly easy to manipulate him at times. I am sure that has much to do with the weakness of his hanyou heart. A demon would have more control, more pride in his own.

Inuyasha snarls, baring his fangs as he tightens his grip on father's sword. "Tetsusaiga is mine!" he argues unnecessarily as the sword gives off a surge of power. I recognize that as the beginning of his main attack. I brace myself, easily noticing my brother's intense look of concentration as he studies the wind scar.

I raise the Tokijin, pretending as if I intend to fight back. Seconds later, he snarls loudly, declaring the attack and sending the kaze no kizu barreling across the ground towards me in a wave of youkai power. I can feel the ground trembling from the force as the kaze no kizu rips through it, creating the familiar scarring furrow.

At the last possible moment, I leap into the air, forcing strength into my legs so that I soar above the attack. In mid-flight, I sheathe the Tokijin, calling my poison. The acidic green substance seeps onto my claw as the kaze no kizu passes harmlessly beneath me, taking out a stand of trees. I can see my brother's look of smug satisfaction, as if he truly believes that the attack struck me.

Surely, he is not that stupid.

Nevertheless, I continue with my plan. I attack from above, barreling down upon him as an unstoppable force. He is too slow to respond, still reeling from releasing the powerful wind scar. I aim to hinder his eyes, my poison enveloping his head. He coughs and swings the Tetsusaiga blindly, his free hand rubbing at his eyes. I easily dodge the wild slashes, even as he staggers back, struggling to both breathe and see. His eyelids blink, but I know that he is blind. By the time his sight returns, my task will be complete.

"Inuyasha!" the monk calls out, very concerned, while also managing to fulfill their need to incessantly call each other's names more times than necessary. It is a ningen habit I find most irritating, even my brother seems to have picked up on this custom.

Disgraceful.

I turn to see the demon slayer rushing me, preparing to swing the hiraikotsu. I allow a smirk to cross my features. She has made it much easier. I have never harmed any of Inuyasha's pack before… or attempted to kill them. Perhaps it is for this reason she does not fear to attack me or maybe she is just that ignorant.

Either way, I do not have to worry about attacking her first.

"No!" Miroku yells, sudden understanding and horror on his face. He must have finally realized my plan. Or maybe it was my smirk, the one Jaken claims is much more frightening than my placid expression, which is his warning. I cannot say.

"Sango! Don't!" he attempts to warn, but she ignores him, intent on her revenge with her face fierce.

I am not afraid of a ningen, however, even though she may be a formidable demon slayer. No one can stand up to the strength of the Lord Sesshoumaru. I stand my ground, letting her come to me, not even bothering to draw Tokijin. I shall not need it, of that I am certain. For a moment, I admire her courage for facing someone such as I, though it is laced with idiocy. It is unique as well, the strength in which she wields the weapon.

The demon slayer swings once, the huge weapon slicing through the air with an obvious keening wail. I back step quickly to avoid, her human reflexes not quick enough for mine own. She grits her teeth, brown eyes blazing with the fire and passion of ningen and brings the hiraikotsu around again, but this time, I am prepared. I narrow my eyes only slightly as the curved weapon makes a path towards my form.

Quick as lightning or perhaps even faster, I draw the Tokijin, batting away the Hiraikotsu. It careens away, landing in a tree with a perceptive thunk. The demon slayer turns in her surprise, watching the weapon sink into the bark of the tree, but that moment is more than I need. My sword is quickly sheathed, and my claws dart forward, snatching her throat with my poison tainted fingers.

Her entire body freezes as her eyes widen in shock, staring intently back into my own anger-filled gaze. A hatred for this female begins to bubble up within me as I squeeze lightly, the tips of my claws breaking her delicate ningen skin.

Such fragile creatures.

A choked gargle emerges from her lips as she attempts to lash out at me. I easily dodge the pathetic try, squeezing her throat in a reflexive warning and lifting her squirming body off the ground with ease. The demon slayer – Sango if I should choose to name her – clings to my one arm, trying to alleviate the pressure on her throat. In her eyes, I can see that she knows the truth… that I am not going to just set her free.

It is intriguing how much this control excites me. I have never thought much of killing ningen before, much like they don't think much of slaughtering livestock or cattle. Yet, the death of this female will bring me much satisfaction and an uncomfortable feeling of relief as well. Her very existence threatens me, and I will not abide by that. I begin to squeeze ever so slowly, relishing the feel of the fragile skin stretching, and my claws breaking her delicate ningen skin.

"Sango!" Miroku cries out in concern, immediately disturbing my intentions.

My eyes narrow as I glance past the dangling woman, catching sight of him. He sees her weakness, and yet, still calls her name. I am unable to restrain a growl of annoyance. He is torn; I can see the hesitation in his violet eyes. One hand clutches tightly to his staff, while his cursed hand is clenched into a fist. He fears using it for harming her. Yet, he knows that within mere seconds I could easily take her life.

In another second, I am distracted, an outraged cry catching my suddenly fickle attention. I shift my gaze to spot the kitsune attempting to attack with his weak fox fire.

Silly child.

The fox kit's eyes widen in surprise when mokomoko-sama (2) wraps around him, easily tossing him aside and into a tree where he hits with a distinct snap, collapsing into a mass of limbs and fur at the base of the vegetation. This pelt is one of my weapons. I suppose I cannot fault them for not knowing that.

Every detail of this moment is being etched into my memory even as I stand with this female's throat in my grasp. Inuyasha growls with anger but edged in panic. I know he can scent her blood, and he fears for this ningen he considers a friend. I glimpse the fallen body of the kitsune, though I know he lives. I note the look on my monk's face, and it is somewhere between devastation, disbelief, and pleading.

For a moment, my resolve to kill falters, and I am inexplicably torn myself. Though indifference registers on my face, beneath the surface is a seething mass of anger and hatred, directed towards this Sango. Yet, beside it remains the feelings of lust and desire for Miroku… and the sudden deep realization that I have doomed myself. I am at a crossroads yet again, and indecisiveness has never been a part of my thoughts before now. Internally, I boil with fury. Again this Sango has caused disruption of my pride, my youkai. Even now with her throat in my hands, she still has control over a part of me!

"Release her!" Miroku orders defiantly, recapturing my attention as he advances towards us, staff at the ready. Though he seems unsure of his plan, as if he hopes by merely making some sort of movement something will occur.

A slight narrowing of my eyes is the only outward indication of my twisting emotions. It is shameful that a human has brought me to this, both the monk for his conniving lust and love and the demon slayer for her gall to touch what is mine.

"You are mine!" I hiss angrily, my nose twitching at the scent of Sango's fear, rising in steady waves all around her. It overlaps the smell of blood and the fresh water until I am nearly drowning in it… an intoxicating feeling, as if the control is all mine. Just as it should be.

Even though I can scent her fear, her eyes remain hard, her face set with grim courage. The slight feeling of control, of dominance that I am regaining, the intoxication from that fades with every defiant stare.

He attempts again, his voice softer and pleading, nearly the same tone he uses on me in the course of our liaisons. "Let her go," he appeals. "She has nothing to do with us."

He would say such a thing! When it is because of her he leaves in the morning! When it is the fault of her that he does not give me his all after he so blatantly took it from me! He dare tell me that this woman has nothing to do with my pain!

His outright begging for her life reignites my jealousy, fueling my hatred. All hesitancy has left me now. There is but one choice I have if I ever want to regain a sense of normalcy. The shift of power must return to my favor, the monk must be made mine! Her fear sets ablaze my fury, the scent of tears prickling my senses and blood dripping down my claws from her wounds. My youkai keens in pleasure within, eager to see and feel blood once more. A thrill of pleasure runs through my body, their fear heightening my senses as I hold her life in my hands.

But it is ruined almost immediately when I shift my gaze back to her face, meeting a mirroring anger rather than the fear I have scented.

Such arrogance for a human! In the face of one like I!

I snarl angrily, my face twisting up furiously and revealing emotion I rarely exhibit. I release her body, strangling her not enough to sate my blood lust. She stumbles, coughing, but it is only a minor respite. My claws rake down her chest, poison filling the wounds I leave behind. I slice easily through her clothing, tearing into the tender flesh and feeling warm blood spill out onto my claws. She shrieks in pain, staggering backwards as one hand goes towards the wound, her body curling over. My poison is spreading through her like a raging fire, causing her to shake.

"Sango!" Miroku's cry barely reaches me. The sound of his running barely echoes on the edge of my consciousness.

In that moment, she still manages a glare of hatred through the pain, looking up at me with vile fury as blood drips down the front of my hakama. All traces of fear vanished from her scent, replaced with this righteous anger, even as her knees wobble… as if mocking me for being the one to drive me to such acts.

It is not enough, slicing her through with my claws. It is not enough to sate the blinding rage that courses through my body. I fiercely grabbed the Tokijin, staining the blade with my blood-soaked claw and slashed violently, releasing the kenatsu attack once more. Two equal cries of rage echoing each other barely broke the din of my blood lust as the kenatsu struck, slamming into the demon slayer's body with enough force to send her flying backwards… directly into Miroku.

He oomphed as he caught her, both of them collapsing to the ground. The scent of blood now overrides everything in the small clearing next to the river, the waters still babbling innocently on… as if nothing had just occurred on its shore. I can feel the crimson fluid coating my claws and the hilt of the Tokijin, but I ignore the metallic scent. A strangled gasp captures my attention, turning my faintly reddening eyes back to their normal amber color as I look down impassively, seeing Miroku staring down horrified at Sango. His hand are stained with her blood.

"You bastard!" Inuyasha screams, the sound of his feet pounding across the ground a warning of his impending attack. "You killed her!" He half-chokes on a sob, attempting to attack with a snarl, though he cannot see. He is fighting blind, in a rage of sorrow.

I remain expressionless as I absorb his words and sidestep his attack, causing him to careen into the river, which will undoubtedly help with the poison. I have only a short time before he regains his eye sight. However, I ignore the plight of my half-brother, instead focusing my attention on the monk, locking my eyes with him.

"That I did," I reply to Inuyasha's prior statement.

Miroku stiffened, scrabbling to his feet in a mad hurry and breaking our gaze to stare down at his hands, crying out loud at the blood that soaks them thoroughly. Even his robes have fallen prey to the demon slayer's life fluid, no longer pumping through her still form.

"Miroku, you fucking asshole!" Inuyasha splutters from the river. "You brought this!" It is obvious what he means, my brother being the only one who knew of our liaison.

I narrow my eyes in anger, planning on retorting to his foolish words when Miroku gives a strangled cry, violet orbs widening in shock and disgust. His gaze shifts from mine back to the mangled body of the demon slayer, taking one and then two steps back. I am not certain that the look on his face is a good thing. I take one minor step forward, though I'm not sure why, but he shakes his head, suddenly turning and running, staff still in his hand.

I take off without another thought. It is he that I have come for, he that I commit this deed to claim. Even while I am flitting through the forest, my speed hardly anything to rival his own, I am again struck by this loss of pride in my being that I have suffered. For this human, I have killed. I have lain on my back and offered my body. I have given chase like a jilted lover. It is demeaning. Yet, I cannot seem to stop myself.

Within moments, I have caught up to him, though a far enough distance from their campsite that the smell of the demon slayer's blood has faded slightly. I can still scent it lingering on my clothes and claws, however. I grab his arm to cease his fleeing, but unexpectedly, Miroku whirls on me, swinging his staff directly at my head. I easily dodge the blow but frown as he rips his arm free from my grasp.

"You bastard!" he screamed, the scent of salty tears beginning to overwhelm my senses. "You killed her, you bastard!" He holds the staff tight in his hands, veins popping on his fingers from the force of his grip. I wisely keep my distance as his anger overspills from his lips, directly entirely at me.

"I did," I reply dispassionately, seeing no need to deny the truth.

Miroku is stating the obvious as all ningen are wont to do, but I will forgive him this annoyance. He cannot help his human heart and feelings. They have superseded his judgment and turned him into an emotional wreck. It is understandable for the moment.

He blinks away the tears, struggling to keep the cries within. "Why?" he grounds out, voice ragged with his sorrow and fury. "Why! Damn you… why?" He is nearly pleading to understand, as if he is torn between his loyalty to her and his desire for me.

Though I do not feel a need to explain my actions to him, I have never been able to keep within the ice shield. Something about this monk makes me react differently than my impassive shell of indifference, than my arrogant youkai pride. I cannot explain it, only that I desire to assuage his pain, somehow making it my own.

"She was interfering."

Violet eyes blaze in rage as he clamps his teeth. "You had no right!" he growls. "None! To take her life! I'm not a possession!" The last is yelled in a voice that climbs in pitch, forced from his lips and heavy with distaste and anger. So much passion… for their short lives, humans have so much passion. I find myself nearly envying it.

I narrow my eyes almost imperceptibly. I had no right? The demon slayer dared touch what was mine, though she had not known. With her teasing ways, leading him into thinking there was a future, ultimately stringing him along in a flurry of false hope. Yet, I had no right?

"I do not share… nor will I abide by irrational jealousies. I made that clear." I am insistent, my voice firm and unyielding.

I crave Miroku, every part of my body straining to be joined with us, so much so that I am fighting within myself to keep it under control. He takes it from me so easily, this control that I covet so much. And though I give up all pride for the pleasure this monk can bring me, I will not beg or cajole. I will not plead with him to understand.

Miroku clenches his jaw, fingers shaking as they grip the staff. "You killed her!" he reiterated on a hiss, narrowing his own eyes. "Did you think I would come to you when you slay the woman I love?"

Love… to use such a word so blatantly around me and yet not directed towards my person. There is a strange gripping inside of me, some sort of clawing, numbing feeling that I am not sure how to describe it. That is what he has done to me. Opening up the gates, allowing these emotions to filter in when I have blocked them for so long. I cannot identify the shiver up my spine at his words.

"I have killed many ningen." My retort is cold. "She was no different."

Even as the words pass from my lips, I know them to be a lie. She was different from all the rest because I sought her out and made a personal vendetta. Her death was planned and executed swiftly. She stood in the way of my pride, of my gradual return to what I should be, a proud daiyoukai. And now Miroku is mine and mine alone… as it should have been in the first place.

Instead, my monk's eyes frost over with anger, and he stands up proud, glaring at me from our short distance apart. "I am no fool," he claims. "You would get to me before I can pull you into my kazaana, though you deserve to die." He literally spat his words at me, as if my presence were a vile stain upon his existence.

The beginnings of anger curl in my body, although him being dominating causes my body to shiver with excitement. I keep my expression schooled into nonchalance, however, unwilling to show my emotions

"But I am as much to blame," he continues, lowering his staff and his voice, the tone shifting to something frightening cold and remorseless, almost dead. In this moment, he sounds like me, and I am not prepared to deal with such a thing. "If you ever come near me with that tainted hand again, I will pull you into oblivion… my own fate be damned."

At his words, my nose twitches at the scent of Sango's blood still clinging to my clothes, armor, and claws. He turns then and begins to walk into the forest, making his steps an even pace, staff clicking against the ground at planned intervals.

He does not even run this time, nor do I chase him. Not this time.

Despite what has been taken from me, what I have given, I must keep this small bit of pride. As his form disappears into the darkened trees around us, I can see his shoulders slump, and the scent of tears assails my nostrils once more. Yet, still I do not give pursuit. I cannot.

I turn, determined to seek the fresh spring that I can sense and wash off the foul smell of the demon slayer, but in the act of doing so, something within me breaks… much like the feeling that assailed me when Miroku professed his love for Sango. It hits like a physical pain, nearly rending my innards like the cut of a knife and causing an unexpected gasp to burst from my mouth. I cannot understand or identify this emotion, this ragged sense of loss and it causes me to snarl irritably.

That brief control I had regained from defeating Sango had been stolen once more, it seems. Miroku means more than I ever realized. I want… no need him, with every inch of my being. Something within me craves him beyond all normal thought and desire.

My claw clenches into a fist. The monk has to be mine… must be… without any sense of doubt. Perhaps not this very moment, not when his grief is so fresh, his unnecessary and ridiculous sorrow. I will give him time to calm, time to realize that I have chosen what is better then I will seek him, and then I will bring him back to me.

But even as I force my body into a sort of calm and head towards the spring, his words cannot help but reverberate within my mind.

"That tainted claw…."

----

(1) The name of Tokijin's attack, the power behind it depending upon Sesshoumaru's will.

(2) The fluffy fur-like object that rests on Sesshoumaru's shoulder.

A/N: No, this is not the last episode. There is one more. And yes, Sango is dead, completely and utterly. Sesshoumaru will not be guiltily flying to her dead body and reviving her with the Tenseiga, that scenario is just highly unlikely with the plot I have built. I know I probably could write a much longer fic with this plotline, rather than the five episodes that jump in time. And perhaps I will. But as of right now, I am considering writing a partner fiction to this which would be titled _Confessions of a Cursed Monk_, from Miroku's POV of course. It depends on what you, the readers, want.

With that said, please review. I am glad for any feedback, encouraging or not.


	5. Delivered

Thanks to everyone for their support! I really appreciate it!

Warning: Character Death, Angst, Slight slashy action (In the form of a kiss)

Confessions of a Western Lord

**Episode 5: Delivered**

Three months have passed since the demon slayer's death. And since then, I have not seen or heard from Miroku. Neither have I felt his presence or smelled his unique scent. I have not actively looked for him, this strange feeling that courses through me for some reason giving me cause to balk and wait. I have taken to wandering, even as I search for the elusive Naraku on the side. Yet, there is not much left in me to even care anymore.

Rin and Jaken remain with me; the child seems to know that something is off with her lord. She continuously chatters with me and refuses to leave, sticking close to me and occasionally clinging to my clothing. I allow it as her presence is a comfort. I do not feel regret for my choice to kill the demon slayer. As I said before, she was just one human in a myriad of others, meaning nothing to me. Her death was a necessity, for both the settling of my youkai and the return of my lost control.

Yet, now that I have not been near to Miroku, I can feel that control seeping through my fingers and fading like dust in the wind. I crave him as if he were some form of opium, my body shaking and my usually dreamless sleep haunted my memories of our times together. This normally unflappable demeanor and cold exterior has been pierced by violet eyes and a ningen's touch.

It is entirely disgraceful.

But I cannot stop myself from falling deeper into this pit of endless misery. On the outside, I seem the same as always, calm, cold, collected. Nothing can shake my impassivity. Every demon that crosses my path I slay without thought; every human that irritates me falls to my blade. I have nearly forgotten about that foul hanyou Naraku, and furthermore, I have stopped seeking my brother as well.

I have not tried to take the Tetsusaiga since I killed that girl, nor have I even seen nor scented Inuyasha. It is strange how just one event, just one relationship and with a human no less, can seemingly stop time, stop all sense of purpose.

It makes me wonder what I have being doing with my existence, what I have accomplished. I've lived for centuries, my only deeds being the most feared youkai assassin. My father's lands have wasted away because I take no care in ruling them. His castle, my home, stands an empty and silent building, slowly rotting away into ignominy. All because of my own choices, my own actions. Jealousy over a hanyou that does not beget it to begin with and pain over losing a father, who never cared either way.

What have I to show for my life other than being feared? What will I leave behind… what legacy?

Everyone knows of the Great Inu no Taisho… he and his three blades, his strength, his assassin son, his half-breed child, his love for a human female so much so that he would give his life. His lands had prospered; he was a great warrior, a superb spirit living for thousands of years.

And yet, in my meager centuries, I have nearly destroyed all that he has built… in the name of emotions that I am claimed not to have. Not the Lord Sesshoumaru, not the ice prince of the west. It is strangely ironic, that it should be a human that is my downfall, much like it was my father's and my brother's. It seems that some things do run in the family after all.

My thoughts turn to my mother, someone I barely ever think about out. I am not sure what calamity befell her and father, but it was not long after I was born that she left the castle and returned to her home. Perhaps there was never any emotion between them, often the case in arranged marriages, which might explain why father disregarded all sense of pride for the human woman he had learned to care for. Now, I have done the same. It seems father did leave a legacy for his children.

"Sesshoumaru-sama." The child speaks yet again, perhaps sensing my dire thoughts. I can feel her small hand clutching at my empty sleeve. Yet, I do not turn my gaze to her.

"Yes, Rin?"

She smiles at the use of her name, this I can sense. It seems any sort of attention I give her, any sort of praise causes her great happiness. Such devotion for a child… and human at that. I have always considered ningen fickle creatures, never able to stay in one place or with one purpose. But Rin has proved me wrong with her loyalty time and again, both I and Jaken, whom she considers her family.

I await her response, knowing that she is searching for the right words. "You are sad," she commented after a moment. "And it makes Rin sad, too." From the mouths of babes, they often say, comes the truth in all its ugliness.

Am I sad? Is that this unidentified emotion roaming through me? This feeling of emptiness, of being incomplete? I crave the monk, his touch, and his words… just his being near to me. He had invaded my body and soul, and without him I feel strangely bereft. Could sorrow be this feeling?

I do not return any words to her because I have nothing to say. Nor does she add anything further to her statement.

What have I for a legacy indeed? This expressive fear at the mere utterance of my name? A vow to reclaim a blade that was not given to me? A human child and a toad youkai ward? The name of one with a heart of stone and ice? Why do I feel the need to define myself by the feelings I have for a cursed monk?

And why, by all the gods, do I seek his presence even now, if only unconsciously. I suppose one might say that I… miss him. Yes, that must be it. Deep within my "cold" heart, I miss Miroku. His touch, his words, the look in his eyes when I am being pleasured so much that my body quakes.

Three months… it is not a long time altogether for a youkai, but for me it seems exceptionally lengthy. Every minute measured as if it were the length of a year, days passing by in monotony. It is strange… this craving that passes through my body, as if I cannot function without his touch.

Without realizing it, my body starts to turn on a new path, unconsciously beginning to seek him out. While three months is nothing in the life of a youkai, for a human it is significant. Perhaps it is time to find him once more. I cannot continue anymore… not in this way.

Then, as if summoned, the wind shifts directions, bringing a most familiar scent my way. Familiar and yet not… it is changed somehow. I recognize it as Miroku's. Yet, it smells weaker, almost sick, like he had contracted one of the ningen plagues that seem prevalent in this area. It is almost like the smell of death, though I can detect no blood. It is an unsettling feeling that begins to pervade through me, and I am not sure I like it.

I pause in my walk.

"Rin?"

"Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama."

"Wait here with Jaken."

As if sensing what I am about to do, the toad protests. "But, my lord, I do not think-"

"Thinking is not a part of your purpose, Jaken. Do as I say." My tone leaves no room for argument. I do not know if Miroku plans to attempt and kill me like he claimed when we last parted. I will not endanger Rin's life. The child has crawled into my heart, and I am loathe to put her in danger. I have saved her life countless times, and no matter what may happen to me, I want her to continue living.

His mouth hangs open, a strange look passing through his eyes before he closes his mouth and nods his head. "Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama." He turned towards Rin, who holds the reins of Ah-Un. "Come, Rin."

She gives me a look, as if she might protest, her lips seeming to quiver. Big, brown eyes look up at me hopeful, pleading with me, though for what I am not sure. Then, Jaken tugs on her arm, gently because I am watching, and she turns, heading away from the direction I plan to journey. I don't think I will ever forget that strange look, almost like she was saying goodbye.

I watch Rin and Jaken depart for another moment, a strange feeling settling in the pit of my stomach as I do so. Narrowing my eyes in irritation at my own sentimentality, I turn and head deeper into the forest toward Miroku's scent. As I walk, I realize, albeit belatedly, that the monk must be alone. Other than the unfamiliar scent alike to sickness, no other smells accompany that of his.

Had he completely distanced himself from my brother's pack? Or has he come looking for me, perhaps detecting my youkai?

Judging from his scent, it's been quite some time since he has left my brother's pack. I am curious as to why. Humans have this incessant need to place guilt and blame, stacking upon layers and layers of self-hatred and pity. Perhaps Miroku feels a sense of remorse for what I have done.

Such foolish creatures.

The closer I get to Miroku's location, the more a small tremble of excitement begins in my body. The once thick apathy that coated every movement begins to slowly melt away at the prospect of seeing him again. My body seems eager, anxious for him and his touch, and I find that my heart has picked up its pace, beating like a mad drum within my chest. It is no small wonder why I have been driven to this when he has invaded my very being. Just the scent of him has me unconsciously moving faster in his direction.

I cannot help but wonder where along the way I have stopped bothering to care. I have become addicted to the taste of a human, killed to prove my ownership, and abided by his wishes by keeping my distance. Once married to my pride, I am now merely passing acquaintances with it. All for the sake of a cursed monk.

Father would be proud.

My nose twitches, and I realize that any moment Miroku and I will meet. I decide to pause and wait his approach. It isn't long before he comes into sight, seemingly unchanged since we last parted. I intake a breath sharply without second thought, my traitorous organ nearly skipping a beat and angering me by doing so.

He doesn't appear to notice me at first, his gaze concentrated on the ground before him. His complexion seems normal, his gait even. He does appear weary, like he has not received a clear night of rest in quite some time, dark circles of fatigue deeply etched into the underpinnings of his violet eyes. He clutches at his ever present staff with the uncursed hand, the rhythmic thumping of it striking the ground, a welcome and familiar sound.

I take a step forward, directly into his path with the intention of announcing my presence. However, before I can even open my mouth, he speaks. Apparently, he is more aware than I realized.

"I've been wondering which of you I would find first," he commented quietly as he came directly to a halt in front of my person, bringing his gaze slowly up from the ground to lock with mine. Even the tone of his voice is unchanged, a familiar lilt that croons to my ears, bringing memories of whispered seduction and endless praise as orgasm washes over the both of us.

But most of all, I am struck by the swirling emotion I see in those violet eyes. By nature, humans are more passionate, a product of their short lives. What I see flashing so quickly through him, these strange and unknown emotions, are so much more than that. I can not even begin to identify them, too quickly do they swirl… save for the determination that seems to overwhelm them all. A determination that leaves me confused.

I raise a brow in question of both his enigmatic statement and the whirling emotions. He has been searching for me… and another?

He laughs lightly, though it is a hollow sound, thick with more of these unidentified feelings. "The bane of my existence…or the bane of my heart," he responds to my unvoiced question, tone still soft. "In a way, this is far more fitting."

"You are speaking in riddles, monk," I reply, eyeing him with some confusion. I have to resist the urge to reach for him, every nerve in my body straining to make contact with him. This traitorous flesh of mine is betraying both me and my pride. "Speak plainly. I've no patience to sift through conundrums of prose."

Miroku smiles faintly, stepping closer so that we are barely a handbreadth apart. He looks at me through long dark lashes and raises one hand to trail his finger down the front of my armor. Even though I can't feel the motion or even the heat from the touch, it makes my entire body shiver. This close, the scent of him envelopes me… along with that strange scent that baffles me. It remains difficult to maintain my impassive mask.

"Three months," the monk comments, as if musing aloud. "I think it's safe to say that I missed you, Sesshoumaru, though it raged against me to do so." Even this much later, he still speaks with familiarity, dropping my title without thought. It once made me angry, and irritated my pride. Now, I just accept it.

How the mighty have fallen.

I narrow my eyes slightly, perplexed by his behavior. I recognize the beginnings of lust glimmering in his violet orbs, as well as other nameless emotions, so complex I cannot read them all at once.

"You're confused," he assumes before I can speak. Indeed, it seems he is the one doing most of the talking, reading my expressions like they were words. In our short time together, he has learned how to read my careful blank face, my mask of indifference. It is strange how such a simple thing can manage to strike me as important.

He continues speaking, "Because of my last words… and my anger."

"Humans are not always practical creatures," I say by way of response.

My veins are thrumming with his nearness. Yet, I feel frozen in place, as if I fear to move. My breath comes short in my throat, and that mad organ continues to thump wildly. Still, I am strangely calm and… relieved. Yes, that is another emotion that courses through me. The odd restlessness that had pervaded my youkai seems to have settled down, calmed just by his presence.

Perhaps I missed him as well.

There is another light laugh, but it is without the usual charm and wit. I cannot tell if he is mocking or truly amused. "I can see that nothing has changed, even for a youkai lord. I have realized some things, and I think that I understand now."

It is a curious response. My brow furrows of its own accord as I try to comprehend his strange words. I feel the sudden need to affirm my feelings, to say aloud what I have killed to prove. The words tumble from my lips before I can stop them, again the sensation of control slipping through my claws.

"You are mine."

He nods nearly imperceptibly, gaze shifting to the side. "Yes, I belong to you." He pauses, repositioning his weight before sliding his eyes back on me. "And you, to me. It is fitting that it would end this way. Almost romantic."

I growl irritably. "More riddles."

He shakes his head. "My apologies. But when a man reaches the end of his life, his sanity departs a little as well."

The end… of his life? What is this fool talking about? And why does my heart clench and my stomach turn? An emotion I am not familiar with… something akin to fear settles within me.

"What are you blabbering on about monk? And why is your scent different?"

Miroku does not respond vocally, however. Instead, without preamble, he reaches up and tangles the uncursed hand in my hair, gently guiding our heads together, our lips crashing and coming together in a passionate kiss. My flesh parts easily, admitting his tongue as I relax into his touch. My one hand grasps for something to cling to, someway to ground my swirling emotions, and I latch onto his purple robes, fire rushing through my veins. With just one taste I am reminded of the pleasure he can bring me, and I instantly desire it once again, the same that had been haunting my sleep.

His lips move against mine, tongue eagerly caressing my own flesh. My teeth graze across his lips, but he doesn't seem to mind, just pushing our bodies together, not caring for the armor that I am sure must be aggravating. Even through our layers of clothing, I can feel his arousal pressing against me. He still desires me after all.

He pulls away for a moment, leaving me feeling slightly bereft before he speaks again. "For a time, my heart – my love – was split in two, and I tried to have it all… but I was unprepared for the jealousies of a youkai lord." He pauses, breath ghosting over my lips as he is still quite near. "In many ways, I am to blame for Sango's death, and I thought I would carry that burden until the end of my life." He chuckles darkly before his face turns abruptly serious. "I never thought it would be this soon."

Could it be that he is indeed dying? Does that explain the strange scent?

Yet, he appears so healthy. And I wonder why he is explaining this to me now. He last said he would kill me, pull me into his kazaana if I ever came near to him. Does he still plan to do so? And why did my heart nearly skip a beat when the word love was uttered, and he alluded to feelings of the heart?

I crave more from him, more than just a simple kiss. With Miroku this close, right in front of me and within my grasp, much of the turmoil that has plagued my spirit has calmed. I feel strangely at peace, like I have come home from a long, arduous journey. All because of the presence of one cursed monk.

Maybe I truly love him after all. If someone such as I could understand that fickle yet powerful emotion.

"Are you dying, Miroku?" I question softly.

He smiles then, a genuine expression of happiness so clear that it startles me. "I think that is the first time you have called me by my name," he comments a bit wistfully before sighing. "What does dying mean to one living on borrowed time? It is strange. Even after watching you slay someone near to my heart, I still want you." His words are punctuated by a slight intake of breath. He winces as if in pain. "I can't seem to let you go."

Then, I feel it, a small surge of power coming from him. A rise in his spirit as he winces again, cursed hand now clutching at my empty sleeve. Beneath the scent of him, something new arises, something familiar. It is a scent that makes my blood boil with anger.

Naraku.

"For her soul to rest in peace, I must wrought her vengeance," Miroku suddenly says, capturing my attention. His voice gasps as both hands tighten in their grip on my hair and clothing. "Mine own death included."

It is then that I understand, the clarity of the truth striking me so quickly that emotion forces itself onto my face before I can contain it. He always claimed his time was short, that because of Naraku, the curse would eventually take him. And in the past three months, without having found that foul half-demon, the hourglass has shattered.

The curse has come to claim Miroku.

And he plans to take me with him. In repentance for the life that was taken, the seeming innocent demon slayer whose presence was an irritant to my existence.

I know, in all sanity, that I should be angry with this knowledge. I should fight to release myself from his clinging grasp. There is nothing he can do to stop me, to restrain me. It would be as easy as slitting his throat with my claw or cutting him down with the Tokijin.

But I feel or think none of that. Instead, I simply accept his plans. A feeling of relief floods through me, a strange relaxing of my tormented youkai. My body that has craved him and his, my spirit that has yearned seems satisfied… like I have been delivered or set free.

It is strange how faced with the possibility of my end, I feel more alive than in my entire existence. Not even on the battlefield, facing down hordes of foes or staking my skill against that of another, have I felt this… vindicated. Every nuance is amplified: the sensation of his hand in my hair, his scent in my nostrils, his body pressed to mine. My senses are filled with the very essence of him.

The cravings that haunt me have faded; the strange gripping of my soul has eased. I am momentarily reminded of my suffering these past few months, the sorrows that shaped the night and the longing that ruled the day. I had forgotten myself, forgotten who I was and why I was.

That a human has brought me to this should shame me. I should balk and rage, slaughter without second thought. The laughter of the other lords, surely entertaining themselves with my loss of pride, but the mere image of his blood staining my hands sickens me, as if I would be betraying something higher than my self-respect.

Father, what a legacy you have left for your sons.

Miroku seems to sense my decision as he releases my hair long enough to pull the wards from the kazaana, the curse already straining at the binding spell. I can feel it pulsing and pounding, the air seeming to take on the very aura of power. His body trembles with pain and power as he clutches at me with his free hand, gasping with the agony.

It is often said that a man's life passes before his eyes in his final moments. I am no man, far above that as a daiyoukai. Still, for the briefest of seconds, my thoughts turn to Rin. She will be my one regret. I know that even if I pass, Jaken will be sure to care for her. He pretends to hate her and claims that he loathes humans, but even he has learned to love her. Just as I. Strange that I can admit that now… the place she has inside of me.

As the wind whips around us, the sky darkening and the world dimming to just our two forms and the curse, he kisses me in what is perhaps the most passionate. The fierce kazaana grows in his hand, widening, ripping his hand open, and he bites my lip in response to the pain. I ignore the blood seeping into both our mouths, never once ending this possessive embrace.

It is ironic. After all my hatred, my mocking… every word of despite that passed from my lips… it is in the arms of one cursed ningen monk that my life would end. It is penance for a human I have no regret in killing.

And even if I live, I would still crave him. I would be forever incomplete, trapped within my impassive, icy shell, merely existing for the sake of life.

I fear nothing, not even my own death.

Our lips meld. Rushing wind, almost like screaming fills my ears. Our bodies press tight, nearly joined as one. For a moment, I feel pain like nothing I've ever experienced as every piece gets drawn into the void. Something warm, wet splashes onto my cheek and then…

Nothing.

-------

EPILOGUE

It is so quiet, except for those damn birds twittering somewhere. Stupid, annoying, brainless creatures. The wind doesn't even move, barely stirring the cloth of my robe. As if everything in the forest, except those baka birds, knows to be mournful of this spot.

I sigh as my ears twitch and leap down into the small depression, flowers clutched tightly in my claws. There in the middle stands a small monument, a rather plain memorial, considering my brother. But it will do. This hole in the ground and that stone will serve as a tomb.

I hear a brief skid and know that Kagome has slid down beside me, Shippo probably on her shoulder. The child attempts to climb down a bit more awkwardly, in the end Kirara giving her a lift. Finally, we all stand here at the bottom of this depression: myself, Kagome, Shippo, Kirara, and Rin.

A year ago, I never would have thought that I would be putting flowers on the combined grave of my stupid half-brother and his even more brainless human lover. But here I am, with Sesshoumaru's adopted daughter no less, holding my hand.

"Idiot," I mutter under my breath, though I am not certain which of them I am speaking to. Maybe both. I can't but feel a little guilty. I mean, I knew about their affair, but I never said anything. I didn't think it was my place. But after what had happened, I am beginning to doubt myself in that choice. Perhaps I should have spoken. Though, I doubt it would have accomplished anything.

I don't say anything else as Rin lets go of my hand to lay flowers on the grave of the youkai lord who saved her life. She holds these bright purple and red wildflowers, ones she claims she picked for him all the time. Rin kneels for a moment, bowing to the stone in silent prayer before rising to her feet, face serene. She is such a strong kid. I don't think she's even cried once. At least, not where any of us could see.

I don't know where Jaken has gone. Once he learned of Sesshoumaru's death, he dropped Rin off in my care and vanished, taking the two-headed staff with him. The little toad was a nuisance, but I'm certain that he served my brother well.

Kagome moves to lay her flowers down next. She doesn't cry either. After Sango was killed, she cried a lot. But now it's like she has numbed to death. Or maybe she's grown up, matured, ya know? I can't really say. I don't even know if I have.

He beat me so easily, Sesshoumaru did. When he attacked us, intent on killing Sango, I was as helpless as a baby with the poison in my eyes. I could hear it, smell the blood, but there was nothing I could do. I regret being so weak. I should have been able to save her.

As Kagome moves, the sun catches the newly rejoined Shikon no Tama, sending rainbow sparkles across the plain grey marker.

Yeah, Naraku's dead.

But too little, too late.

It's been three months since Miroku's kazaana consumed him and Sesshoumaru. I still don't understand it. Lord Sesshoumaru: the icy, ruthless, human-hating assassin… falling for a lecherous monk? It seems more likely for swine to fly or, Kami-help-us, Naraku to suddenly become a good guy! I can't comprehend it at all. He is such a hypocrite, my brother.

Yet, the greatest tragedy of it all was Sango's death. She was an innocent in the midst of their affair. And still, Sesshoumaru killed her.

Now, I'm Lord of the Western Lands, and honestly, I don't want to be. I never expected to have this fall on me. Being a hanyou, I thought Sesshoumaru would long outlive me. And I figured that eventually my icy brother would marry and reproduce, Kami help the poor wench roped into that one. I've seen the empty and dark castle that should be my home. I prefer the forest.

Shippo leaps down from Kagome's shoulder to lay one of his toys at the base of the marker, just as he did when we visited Sango's gravesite yesterday. I still can't believe Sesshoumaru killed her. I mean, my brother's an assassin and heartless, but I never thought that he would slay over jealousy and certainly not over jealousy for a human. It is baffling.

Kagome steps to the side as I move forward to lay my wrinkled and bedraggled flowers down. Feh. I don't know why I bothered. She insisted, however, and I didn't feel like getting "sat."

"Idiots," I say again, this time a bit louder. "You're both damn fools." Kagome stays quiet, not even reprimanding me. I don't have anything better to say, after all. Not to them. All of my sorrows have been replaced by anger.

Not even centuries from now will I understand their relationship. A western lord and a cursed monk? Was it love? Was it lust? Obsession?

I wish I knew.

The wind picks up, the scent of the coming storm along with it. I'm sure it's going to rain soon. A fitting end to such a dreary day. I snort in annoyance and turn from the marker, urging everyone to climb out of the pit Miroku's wind tunnel left behind.

I stop just at the top and stare down into the gravesite. Multi-colored flowers dot the plain stone marker, a child's wooden top and a bronze metal staff thrust sharply into the ground… the only thing left behind.

The irony of it all… it would be laughable if I could force the emotion out of me.

"Inuyasha-sama, where are we going now?" Rin questions from astride Kirara. Even after Sango's death, the fire cat stayed with us. I think she takes comfort from Kagome's presence. As for Rin, she and Kagome both find it amusing to call me by that title. I suppose it is because it irritates me.

I'm no damn lord.

I frown and sigh before turning back to my waiting pack. "I dunno, Rin." The jewel is whole, Naraku defeated… There isn't much left to us but peace.

"Let's go see Lady Kaede," suggests Kagome softly, laying her hand on my arm. "We still have to decide what to do about the jewel."

I shrug as my gaze shifts to the darkening sky, a water droplet falling on my forehead in the process. Feh. I scowl.

"Yeah," I grumble. "Let's get out of this storm before we all get soaked."

I don't even look back once as we begin the trek towards Kaede's village. The world still moves on, after all, never minding the loss of one arrogant western lord and his cursed, lecherous monk lover.

END

A/N: Well, that has got to be the hardest fanfiction I have ever written. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Your support is appreciated. I hope to see you again whenever I post my new fic. Til then!


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